Every Bengali family has a Mommy who’s a bit of a Dominatrix. Not the leather sporting, sexed up kinds. More like the emotional butt whupping kinds. The “my-kid-better-be-perfect-or-imma-slap-him-crapless-kind”. You get the drift.
The second you start losing weight, the Mommy pounces – she stuffs you with roshogolla and maach and tries to poof you up till you’ve successfully reached the size of the Biswa Bangla globe. No amount of crying will suffice because she wants you to be “healthy.”
And God forbid if you’re a guy.
You’ll be forced into becoming a Mommy’s boy that requires your Mommy’s permission to even pee in your own loo. And if she says no to something, going to the Daddies won’t help. Because her word is law.
The Banshee is supposed to have the worst screech ever. Well, whoever said that never met a Bengali Mommy. If you want to pick a career outside of medicine or engineering, the Banshee Mommy comes out of her shell. And the screaming, my dear friends, will be the death of your dreams.
This post was inspired by my own Mommy, who once fed me so much I threw up like crazy. Did that bother her? No.